


Dream Sharing

by JSwander



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, But only in chapter 1, Dream Sex, Dubious Consent, Fluff, I can't stress that enough, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, M/M, Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn, Rutting, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JSwander/pseuds/JSwander
Summary: After Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is injured in a mission, his padawan learner Qui-Gon Jinn experiences troubling dreams.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 183





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kurtssingh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurtssingh/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 can be read as a G-rated standalone drabble for anyone who is just looking for some QuiObi fluff.

“I said I'm _fine,_ ” Obi-Wan said exasperated, for what felt like the hundredth time.

It was no big deal, really. It had only been a few light scrapes.

Some internal bleeding.

Some fractured bones.

One (one or two) _very broken_ bones, but that was what the bacta tanks were for. A few hours later and Obi-Wan was good as new, though his padawan was still clearly wracked with guilt.

“You should have let me help you, Master.” Qui-Gon said softly, as they walked up the steps to the temple.

“For the last time, it was far too dangerous for the both of us to remain to stabilize the reactor.” Obi-Wan dismissed his concern with a wave. “Your presence there would have simply presented another risk. We got the passengers to safety. I am fine.” _You are safe._ “That's what is important. We did well today, dear one.” Obi-Wan braced his hand on Qui's shoulder. A few more inches and he might have to stand on his toes to do so. Qui-Gon covered his hand over Obi-Wan's, his smile soft and sad and lovely.

“Yes, thank you Master.”

“You will put this from your mind?”

“I will.”

* * *

_The reactor was going to blow. There was no way around it. But with all his strength, and the assistance of the Force one could re-direct the pressure back out of the vents. It was an exercise in futility. The ship could not be saved. Obi-Wan would only work to delay the inevitable, buy them enough time for others to get to the escape pods._

_Obi-Wan watched himself struggle, arms outstretched from far off in the distance down the hall._

_Master, no!_

He as the hull blew, as his body thrown backwards with bone-shattering force.

* * *

Obi-Wan gasped, jolting awake. His body felt heavy and hot.

That was what transpired, but that was not _his_ memory.

A low, insistent moan drew him further out of sleep and into the present.

He lay on his stomach, his head pressed into the pillow. He couldn't move.

Strong arms were wrapped around him, pinning his own to his sides. One had managed to find its way up his nightshirt, the palm pressed flush against his abdomen.

“Master...” Qui-Gon's mouth was slack on his neck, his breath warm against his nape.

It was Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan realized blearily. He relaxed a bit, his mind still muddled from sleep.

They had been his memories, his dream. Or, nightmare rather.

Obi-Wan began to drift off a bit again, making a mental note to working on shielding with his padawan. Dream-sharing was not unheard of, but it was something that often reserved for younglings or very young padawan learners. Obi-Wan himself had his share of nightmares early on his his apprenticeship where his old master Dooku had appeared. In each such occasion he had gotten a rather stern lecture on the foolishness of whatever ghoul or terror his mind had managed to conceive. The sheer embarrassment had been more than enough for him to strengthen his shields to keep them private in sleep.

Qui-Gon had never had such problems with him before. Clearly the day's events had bothered him more than he let on. Obi-Wan let his feelings of compassion and sympathy naturally swell, sending them through their training bond to soothe the troubled mind of his padawan.

_I am here. All is well._

Qui-Gon exhaled slowly, his body relaxing against his master. His body was heavy and warm. It felt nice, and he was too far off to consider the implications of attachment to summon the energy to send him back to his own room.

They could discuss it in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 dives headfirst into the sin-bin just a heads up folks.


	2. Chapter 2

Qui-Gon made another soft sound, shifting insistently against him.

Something very solid nudged against Obi-Wan's inner thigh.

“Master,” The way he said Obi-Wan's name was quite different now. Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open as he realized two things at once.

His padawan extremely nude.

He was also semi-erect.

Obi-Wan's cheeks seared hot, torn between the desire to flee and the inevitable mortification of waking up and facing his padawan in such a state.

How many times had they discussed this? Qui-Gon was an exemplary padawan in many respects, but his insistence on sleeping in the nude in order to “open his sleeping mind to the Living Force” was not one of them. Twice now he had caught him late at night rummaging for a snack in the kitchen completely bare. While Obi-Wan fled the scene red-faced each time, Qui-Gon stubbornly refused to feel even the slightest modicum of shame.

Obi-Wan really should have been sterner with Qui-Gon. He already let him get away with far too much.

He really had only himself to blame for this predicament.

Careful not to rouse him, Obi-Wan experimentally shifted under his padawan's weight, trying to work himself free. He only succeeded in eliciting a keening, fretful sound from Qui-Gon, who pulled him tight and flush against his body. The movement naturally caused his hips grind against Obi-Wan's splayed thighs.

Obi-Wan swore softly into the pillow, despising how good it felt. Qui-Gon's thick cock rubbed up against his underside, burning hot through the meager layer of protection his own sleep pants afforded. He'd spent far too long ignoring his own bodies needs and desires. Qui-Gon's hips picked up an untidy, needy rhythm against him. His cock sliding beneath him, creating delicious friction against his traitorously stiffening member.

Obi-Wan bit back a moan as he tried to ignore the heat curling low in his gut. Qui-Gon's hand on his stomach had inched lower, just barely rubbing over the start of dark ginger hair below his navel that trailed down his groin.

He had to wake him up, quickly now. But rather than feeling more awake or alert, a fresh wave of heady fatigue wash over him. The training bond between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan was open, Qui's force signature pulled at him needfully. Obi-Wan eyes slid shut, his vision swimming. His muscles relaxed, pulled in flush against Qui-Gon's hot, naked body as his mind was pulled back into the dream.

It had changed.

“ _Master, master...” Qui-Gon begged._

“Master,” Qui-Gon breathed, his teeth finding and latching on to Obi-Wan's ear in reality.

_From an outsiders perspective, Obi-Wan could see himself as Qui-Gon saw him. Beautiful, powerful but breakable. He fit perfectly in Qui-Gon's arms, who had him pinned him pinned effortlessly against the wall, fucking him with desperation._

Obi-Wan didn't see Qui-Gon speak, but could hear his thoughts and _feel_ his intentions all around him, through him and consuming him.

_Won't let anyone hurt you,_

_My master,_

_Keep you safe,_

_Mine,_

_MINE_

Obi-Wan was caught in the storm of desire and lust. He was behind them, he was Qui-Gon, he was writhing beneath his padawan in his bed in the Jedi Temple, he was the beautiful unfettered Master held in Qui-Gon's arms, being steadily and earnestly and thoroughly loved. He couldn't tell which of them did it, his force signature slotting into that position. Nails dug into Qui-Gon's back, his toes curling in the air as his body was deliciously devoured by his padawan's desire for him.

He couldn't move, he could only take it.

He wanted it.

In the dark bedroom of the temple, Obi-Wan grasped himself, swept up in a powerful, shameful climax torn out from deep in his gut. It mirrored Qui-Gon's own, the roil of sweet intensity echoed back and forth between their bond as one triggered the other, amplifying them together.

He wasn't so sure how long he lay there, suspended in a glowing haze of hormonal bliss. Once again, sleep tugged at his senses, though he knew it was the ordinary sort this time. Qui-Gon was snoring softly beside him. His grip had loosened, arms relaxed around Obi-Wan. He had enough room now to wriggle free. To rid any evidence of this – whatever this was – well before Qui-Gon awoke.

In the morning, everything would be as it was.

He would get up in a moment.

In just a moment.


End file.
